Dear Everyone
by Winnebagels
Summary: I left. I came back. This is my fumbling bumbling life story.


Dear everyone,

Hey. How are things? That's good. Moving on. Oh you weren't finished? Oh well that's fine I wasn't really listening anyways. Still moving on.

First off, fuck me I have some explaining to do. I'm going to start with the basics: I'm not dead. I didn't get trapped inside the belly of a whale during my desperate pursuit of finally becoming a real boy. I didn't lose both my hands in an epic penknife duel. I didn't even go on an amish binge for the better part of a year and settle down to the simple life of castrating cows and milking chickens. Simply put, I gave the fuck up. The stress became too real. Deadlines popped up like a motherfucker. I wanted to write more but everything I wrote came out as shit and I ended up watching the mighty morphing power rangers in my bunny onesie. I kept promising that I'd post but I never did. The spark was gone and everyone expected me to fucking finish what I started already. So I did what I do best, I bailed. I kept in touch with some of you guys (by some I mean skylo) and with everybody else I just gave the middle finger to and disappeared. It was definitely not a shining moment. To that I say I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry. You guys are people. You deserved to be treated like people. I just treated you like burdens and responsibilities and to be honest, I'm pretty shit when it comes to handling burdens and responsibilities. Fuuuuck, this is harder than I thought. Ok I'm going to keep going.

Alright now that we've established the big picture (I fucking abandoned you guys, and I'm sorry) let me tell you a story. Buckle down though, it's long and poorly written.

I guess I should start with a little bit about me. I'm not who I said I was, my name's not even Bagels. I'm a dorky little kid with too much time on his hands. I was born with a speech impediment. I have problems saying sh-, ch-, and dg- sounds. I got made fun of all of the time. Kids are bitches. I decided that I could either get shit on for trying to talk or I could shut up and keep my head down. I'll give you one guess as to which one I chose. I sucked my thumb until the fourth grade and it gave me buck teeth, like my-front-two-teeth-were-horizontal buck teeth. My mom says that I had an oral obsession when I was younger, I couldn't not put things in my mouth. There's a gay joke in there somewhere. Anyways moving on. I needed braces for my buck teeth and twinkies for the inevitable shame of having both buck teeth and a brace face. I was quiet, metal-mouthed, and fat and I hadn't even hit middle school. Oh also any time someone tried to be my friend I growled at them, cause I was a fucking weirdo.

In high school I finally had the chance to move in with my Dad (divorced parents, you know the deal). I got a fresh start. Nobody knew who I was or that I peed my pants when everyone else on the choir was singing the National Anthem (I had a front row spot because I was short, it was an awards ceremony, it's not really something you live down). I came out of my shell. I met people. I joked around. I took my clothes off at sporting events. I was having the time of my life.

It was around that time that I realized I was gay. Here's a life tip for you youngsters out there, if you're gay, try your very hardest not to be born in the american south. They're not quite ready for you yet. Swing back around in a few generations. Anything could happen.

For the most part I was lucky. I wasn't flamboyant. I dressed horribly. And I had supportive parents. (I'll write my coming out stories if anyone wants to hear it, fuck here I go again promising to write things). Basically if I didn't tell anyone, no one would come asking. Which was a good thing. A lot of my school friends were bigots. Hell the salutatorian (poor man's valedictorian) kept going on and on about how we should round up all the gays and put them in concentration camps. He was going to call it the Homocaust, because puns. I managed to keep it under wraps till I left for college, at which point I shoved my gay rainbow down everyone's throats. Not like that, you perverts.

I made some friends and lost some friends. That's just the way the cookie crumbles. My church had a big problem with it because of course they did. I got called faggot more than my fair share of times. It's just something you learn to deal with. I got in a few fights. Nothing too bad but I'm way too limp-wristed to win in a fight so nothing too good either. I started texting one of my old friends from back home. He had the bieber swoop and I fell hard. We started dating long distance. It was my first ever real relationship (not a beard to impress my parents) and I was fucking thrilled. Everything was coming up Bagels. Summer came and we started dating face-to-face. It was AWESOME.

Somehow, someway our church found out. They told his mom who was not having any of that. Her son was going to Heaven whether he wanted to or not goddammit. She put him on house arrest (took his keys, his laptop and his cellphone) and forbid me from seeing him. We were excommunicated. I decided that fuck it, I can't win this fight and it's only getting worse for him the longer I try. I called his mom, told her it was over and asked her if I could talk to her son. I got lucky, she let me break his heart in person. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, and I couldn't get out of bed. I felt like God hated me. I felt like I was going to die alone and that there was no way out. I drank a lot.

It was around then that I found RageGamingVideos. (You spend a lot of time on the internet when you don't leave your room). It was Quick Build Challenge, because of course it was. I was hooked. Something about the arrogance coupled with the godawful puns is strangely alluring. Again, not in that way, you big perverts. I watched every video I could find, eventually branching out into Generation Hollow, Captain Fluke, and Evanz111. They helped me laugh when I couldn't find another reason to laugh. I even got drunk one night and pmed Evanz my whole life story. I also mistakenly outed him as gay. Good times.

I fell into their streams and decided I'd try to give back. I drew them some fan art but I really sucked at fan art so that didn't really work. I was working on my third stick figure portrait of Rage cosplaying Mona Lisa when the crew started talking about a fanfiction of them in a zombie apocalypse. Now I had heard of fanfiction before. I knew that it was the world's premier producer of teletubby slash fiction. But I had never looked at fanfiction as, you know, actual fiction. Not until Mad Hattress' zombie fic. Basically if it hadn't been for her I wouldn't have written a single cliffhanger. Send all your complaints to her twitter.

I decided that I wanted to write the apocalypse too, but zombies was already taken. So I scrambled to come up with something else. Aliens eventually won out over Mole Men and Robo Hitler. I crapped out a few chapters, sent them in to Hollow, and skyrocketed in popularity. It was a hell of a feeling. Total strangers were not only reading my shitty fanfiction, but enjoying it. I joined twitter and made a shit ton of friends by writing even shittier tweets. I was fast becoming a professional internet person.

The only problem with all this was that I still couldn't eat, I still couldn't sleep, and I still couldn't get out of bed. I was clinically depressed, and I hid it from everyone I loved. Things kept piling up. My best friend couldn't afford college anymore so she signed up for the Navy. My own scholarship ran out and I couldn't bring myself to tell my Dad. I was looking for a way out and I settled on suicide. It was all I could think about. I cried a lot those days. I cried because everything hurt. I cried because I loved my family, I loved my friends, I loved you guys, and I was leaving you. I was bailing out and giving everybody the finger. I was doing what I do best. One of the only things that kept me from pulling the trigger on my sad sack of a life was that shitty fanfiction. I couldn't leave yall with a cliffhanger. Especially if I was killing people off left, right and center. It got to the point where I wasn't writing because the sooner I finished, the sooner I would be free to kill myself. I put a whole lot of stress into those updates. The last few ended up being shit anyways haha. I decided that internet fame was a lousy reason to keep death waiting and I picked a suicide date. It was a Sunday, I've always liked Sundays. I set about making arrangements. I gave out my personal facebook to skylo and BJ Graves. I was going to have them tell yall that I had kicked the bucket. Fuck that's a shitty reason to friend someone. Sorry about that guys. I pulled back on twitter and tried to lessen the blow. I was too scared that I'd back out if I tried to say goodbye.

The good news is that I'm still not dead. Like I said, I had a plan, I was ready, it was over. Then something happened. The New England Patriots made the playoffs. You see, me and my Dad are die hard fans. There's no way I was leaving him before one last game together. I ended up pushing my suicide back a week. This would be fine for the plan except for the fact that waiting one more week meant going back to college. I played it cool, pretending to go to classes that I hadn't paid for. Pretending to sleep in a dorm bed that I also hadn't paid for. I only had to hold out for one more week, how hard could it be? The funny thing about colleges is, they really like getting paid. A few officials came by the dorm on Wednesday and told me to pay or gtfo. I didn't have the money. I didn't have anything. I packed my shit, said goodbye to the roomies, and shamed my way back home. Dad took off work to look after me. He's a good dad. Sunday came and went, and still I was alive. Hours turned into days, days into weeks. Failing the fuck out of college straight up saved my life. I eventually came clean about my depression to my best friend (the navy girl) and she made me tell my family. I started taking antidepressants and seeing a therapist. I'm three months removed from my last suicidal thought. I'm on the up and up. I'm trying to do right by all the people I've fucked over. Near the top of that list is you lot.

I don't have many good excuses for why I haven't talked to you earlier. I guess you can chalk it up to spending all my time with family and my best friend before she left for boot camp. I have no excuse for why I didn't say goodbye. I was being an asshole. I can't promise that I'll stick around, pressure still hits me pretty hard. And I can all but guarantee that END is over. All of the jokes are out of date and I have at least 6 months of videos to watch before they're relevant again. On top of that I lost all my notes when my last laptop exploded. I have a rough sketch of what I was going to do with the series but I haven't written those characters in 8 months. Hell, this is the longest thing I've written since in just as long. I like writing though, it's cathartic. And I'm sure I'll find some way to make people laugh again. For now, I'll just be around. Anyone who wants spoilers/resolution can pm me or tweet me, I'll do my best to answer any questions.

Thank you. All of you. For reading, for talking to me, for laughing, and for simply being you. I owe loads of people individual apologies, and I'll do my best to get them to you. Fruit baskets for everybody! If you're going through any of the same shit or if you just want to catch up or cuss me out for disappearing, Im on twitter. As it is now, I'm exhausted. I've been up all night writing this, and I still don't know how to end it. Story of my life I guess haha.

Winnebagels.

P.S. Heres a new phrase I've been trying to coin, it's probably not the time or the place but this explanation shit is way too heavy for me not to at least try to lighten it up:

Car-Jacked-Off: A robbery with a happy ending. For instance, say you and your new born were forced out of your car at gun point but then later that day you met David Hasslehoff at the police station and had a sexy hamburger party. You just got Car-Jacked-Off.


End file.
